He glanced into her face with a keenness that somewhat belied his professed incapacity to be in earnest, and remarked with seeming lightness:
“Feeling a bit down on your luck, eh? Are you thinking of falling in love foolishly?”
“I’m thinking of trying to guard against doing so.”
“You ought not to find it difficult. Crowd him out with other admirers.”
“It seems as if he were going to do the crowding out.”
“Why, is he so big?” jocularly.
“There’s six foot five-and-a-half of him.”
“Whew! And thin as a lathe, I suppose; a sort of animated telegraph pole.”
“No; broad in proportion, cut to measure absolutely.”
“Then he is a fine fellow,” with conviction.